A Rogue For The Quadruplet Alpha's.

Adrien.

I spotted her before she saw me—Maria, storming out of Davian’s room, her steps sharp and rigid, the kind of determined stride that made it clear she was angry. A piece of paper was clenched tightly in her hand, edges crumpled slightly from the force of her grip. Her anger radiated from her like heat, a visible tension that made the air around her feel heavier. I followed her with my eyes a moment longer, taking in the set of her shoulders, the sharp tilt of her chin, before finally stepping inside the room.

"Davian," I asked, my voice steady but edged with concern, careful not to let my worry show too much. "What happened?"

He looked up at me, calm and precise, his features almost unreadable. His expression gave nothing away, and yet there was a weight in his eyes that told me he knew the situation was serious. "We sent Maria on an errand," he explained quietly. "She was to retrieve the ceremonial shawl for Vanessa."

"Okay," I said aloud, though the words felt hollow even as they left my mouth. They sounded empty, just a formality, because deep inside, a knot of worry had twisted itself tightly around my chest.

The eastern wing was dangerous for her to go alone. My mind replayed every possible danger. What if something went wrong? What if she didn’t make it out alive? My stomach knotted at the thought. She hadn’t been given a horse, she would have to trek miles on foot, and the fatigue, the exposure, the risks of that place... it was enough to make my heart pound faster.

I tried to calm myself, tried to tell myself it would be fine, that Maria could handle it. But another thought pressed down harder: if she didn’t return in a day, I would go after her myself. I couldn’t leave her to face the dangers of the eastern wing alone, not for a single hour.

Hours passed, the sun climbing high and then sliding down toward the horizon. Still, Maria had not returned. The worry inside me gnawed relentlessly, each passing minute sharper than the last. I knew, logically, she couldn’t have made it back in a single day, but knowing that didn’t lessen the anxiety that burned in my chest.

My brothers and I were gathered in the study room, discussing the day’s matters, papers scattered across the table. Their voices blended into the background as my thoughts raced. I turned to them casually, masking the urgency in my tone. "I’m going to the eastern wing," I said lightly, almost as if it were routine, tucking the excuse carefully into my words. "I need to get something important for the pack."

They barely looked up. A shrug here, a distracted glance there, they didn’t question me, didn’t challenge me. That was all the confirmation I needed. Without hesitation, I moved toward the stables.

I mounted my horse quickly, the leather saddle creaking beneath me. My fingers gripped the reins tightly as I urged the horse forward. The rhythm of hooves striking the earth echoed through the air, a steady drum that seemed to sync with the rapid pulse beating in my chest. Every second of the ride was heavy with anticipation. Every shadow between the trees seemed to hide some unseen threat, every rustle in the underbrush made my heart jump.

I rode hard, my focus entirely on reaching the eastern wing. Maria had gone ahead of me, and now I was chasing both the setting sun and the gnawing fear in my chest. I had to get there. I had to make sure she was safe. The thought alone made my muscles tense, my jaw set, and my grip on the reins unyielding.

Every beat of the horse’s hooves carried me closer, but my worry did not ease. It only grew sharper, more urgent, until every turn of the path, every breath of wind, felt like a countdown. She couldn’t be far now. She had to be there, and I would not allow anything to happen to her.

When I arrived, the place was too quiet.

Not the calm quiet of order.

The wrong kind.

The courtyard of the eastern storage wing should have been buzzing, guards exchanging reports, rogues moving supplies, patrol boots striking stone. Instead, the air felt tight.

My horse hadn’t even fully halted before I swung myself down.

Boots hit the ground hard.

My eyes swept the perimeter immediately, walls, corners, windows, the positions of every guard.

"Has a rogue come here yet?" I demanded.

The nearest guard stiffened. "Yes, Alpha."

The hesitation in his tone sharpened my focus.

"And?" I pressed.

He glanced at another guard before answering. "But the rogue... she was stung by bees."

For a split second, I didn’t understand the words.

Then they settled.

Stung.

Bees.

A slow, cold heat ignited in my chest.

"Where is the rogue?" My voice dropped, quieter now, but far more dangerous.

The guards exchanged another look, reluctant, uneasy.

Finally, one lifted his hand and pointed toward the inner room.

Without another word, I mounted again. I didn’t wait for protocol. I didn’t wait for escort.

I rode straight toward the door.

As I approached, something moved in my peripheral vision, a shadow through the side window.

I turned my head.

And my breath caught.

Through the narrow pane of glass, I saw her.

Maria.

She was upright on a cot, her movements slow, weak. A robe hung loosely over her shoulders. Her skin looked flushed, marked in faint angry patches even from a distance.

And someone was over her.

Too close.

Hovering.

Leaning over her body.

My chest tightened instantly.

Instinct didn’t wait for reason.

I had already drawn the arrow before my mind fully formed the thought.

In one smooth motion, I notched it, pulled back the string, and steadied my aim through the open window. My focus narrowed, no hesitation, no doubt.

Release.

The arrow sliced through the air.

It struck true.

A sharp impact echoed from inside, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor.

My heart didn’t ease.

There was no satisfaction.

Only urgency.

I kicked my horse forward and dismounted again in one swift movement, pushing the door open with force.

It swung wide with a harsh scrape against the stone.

"Back off!" I shouted, my voice filling the room with authority and warning.

The word reverberated off the walls.

But Maria didn’t flinch.

She didn’t look relieved.

She didn’t even look at me.

Her attention was fixed entirely on the figure on the floor.

The one I had just shot.

My eyes followed her gaze.

The rogue.

Male.

An arrow embedded in his shoulder.

Blood spreading.

He lay partially turned, unconscious or stunned, I couldn’t tell which.

Only then did the full image register.

He hadn’t been attacking her.

He had been near her.

Protecting?

Helping?

The realization flickered, but too late.

Maria slowly lifted her head.

Her eyes met mine.

And in that instant, everything inside me shifted, the relief that had surged when I saw her alive, gone.

The fear that had driven my shot—gone. What replaced it was something far more unsettling.

Her gaze was not grateful, not shaken, It was sharp, tense, unwavering, and beneath it....Intent, not confusion, not fear. But something dangerously close to fury. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

My heart pounded harder than it had when I released the arrow.

"Why did you shoot him?" she asked quietly.

Her voice didn’t shake. It didn’t crack. There was no trace of fear or weakness in it. Even injured, even pale beneath the loose robe draped over her shoulders, she didn’t look fragile. She looked dangerous. Like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath, still, controlled, but ready to cut.

The question settled heavily between us.

"I couldn’t help it," I answered, though the words came out tighter than I intended. "Why was he all over you like he had the right to touch you?"

The moment the question left my mouth, I realized how it sounded. Possessive. Raw. Too honest.

Her lips curved, not into a smile, but into something sharper. A scoff.

"I don’t think that’s your concern, Alpha Adrien," she shot back.

The title hit harder than if she had used my name alone. Formal. Distant. A reminder of lines drawn.

Her eyes dropped briefly to the rogue lying motionless on the floor, then lifted again to meet mine. There was fire in them. Controlled fury.

"Alpha Adrien..." she continued, her tone steady but cutting. "I would advise you to stop minding who touches me or not. I am not your..."

I didn’t let her finish.

The distance between us vanished in two strides. My chest rose and fell rapidly, breath uneven, frustration and something far more reckless driving me forward.

Before reason could catch up, I kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t carefully planned. It was impulsive, charged with everything I hadn’t said, everything I shouldn’t have felt.

"Shut up, Maria... just shut up," I muttered against her lips, the words breaking between hurried kisses, as if silencing her was the only way to quiet the storm raging inside me.